


Ink

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, Librarians, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 14:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13296492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Staying late at the library leads to a conversation and a promise about ink.





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Started sometime near the end of 2015; completed 1/7/2018.

It was after hours at the library Fingon managed, and while he was finished with his work for the day, he had one member on his staff who tended to work later than he did on a consistent basis. Sometimes, Fingon spent the extra time relaxing with a book, and other times when it seemed that less concentration was needed, he just sat and watched and chatted a bit, sometimes even gaining a reply from his hardworking coworker. Today was a sit and watch day while Erestor finished writing information on a small stack of cards destined for the catalog. Fingon had a mug of cocoa which he occasionally sipped from. The rest of the time, he kept watch on Erestor’s hands as they moved, and soon he remarked, “I love the strange patterns on your skin.”

Erestor finished the current card he was on before setting it aside to dry. “Strange patterns?” he now asked.

“Not patterns, but the splotches on your hands from the ink that leaks off your nibs.” Fingon reached over and pointed to one such mark with his finger. “It reminds me of a tattoo, but more natural.”

“I used to have tattoos,” said Erestor. 

Fingon withdrew his hand and drank from his mug again. “So did I.”

Erestor turned his hand to the side and frowned. “It just looks like a blob of ink.”

“You need to stop being so… literal about things.” Fingon dipped his finger into the ink and began to draw with his nail along Erestor’s arm, swirling the markings as his contorted his wrist.

“What is it?” asked Erestor when Fingon finished with his artwork.

“That is for you to figure out,” Fingon said. He wiped off his finger and picked up his mug again.

Erestor turned his arm the other way. There were no particular letters that he could see, and no image was evident to him. All the same, Fingon appeared smug, so there had to be some meaning. “So it is something?”

“Of course it is something,” said Fingon. He waited until Erestor pulled another card from the pile and appeared to give up on interpreting the stain of ink he now sported. “It is a token of my affection.”

Erestor looked at the marks again. It was pretty, but now he was most certain there was nothing hidden in what Fingon produced. He dipped the feather end of his quill into the ink and drew on Fingon’s arm, from his wrist down to his elbow, and up and around again until he ran out of ink. Fingon watched with much amusement and did not attempt to restrain Erestor’s creativity, but when he stopped, Fingon reached out and turned the quill in Erestor’s hand. “Here. Write your name,” he insisted. “On me.”

Concern was voiced immediately. “This nib is fairly sharp.”

“I know. That is the point,” he said with a grin as he adjusted his chair so that he was closer and set his mug further away.

Erestor dipped the quill into the ink and surveyed Fingon, who did not have much skin exposed. There were hands, wrists, neck, throat - all of these seemed like the wrong places. “Where?” Erestor finally asked.

“Somewhere visible. I can roll up my sleeve or something if you need me to,” Fingon offered.

“Perhaps you could give me a little more guidance,” suggested Erestor.

Fingon pulled the fabric of his shirt up to his elbow and rubbed the inside portion of his forearm. “Right here. Make sure it is big enough for me to read it.”

Erestor bit his lip. “Really?” Fingon nodded and both of them turned enough so that Erestor could reach the spot without twisting his neck, and Fingon could steady his arm against his leg. “Why here?” asked Erestor.

“When I draw back my bow, I can see it, and if I absolutely must, I can cover it up,” Fingon reasoned. He cupped his wrist with his other hand to steady the canvas while Erestor very carefully wrote his name, each character carefully crafted.

“I hope this is not hurting too much,” Erestor whispered as he finished the word. He blew across Fingon’s skin to dry the last few letters. “There you are.”

Fingon bent his arm to look at the marks, and pretended to draw an arrow to make sure it was on the right spot. “Can you get the quill to pierce the skin?” he asked.

“You want it to be permanent? At least, for a while?” questioned Erestor.

“I want you to be permanent,” Fingon said with certainty.

Erestor blushed and smiled. “This is not very sanitary, and not the right kind of ink. However, at home, I do have everything I would need--”

“Then why are we still here?” Fingon asked.

“--and I will let you write your name on me, too. Somewhere visible. And permanent,” added Erestor.

Fingon smiled back and kissed Erestor on the nose. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> For a comprehensive list of Bunniverse stories, please see: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1R7e1nky65lxhvfIabDX7n_TbknuhMH0m4eero6A-GC0/edit?usp=sharing


End file.
